The Soft Hand of Force

By DX

Copyrighted 7/2025.  All rights reserved.  Story may not be reproduced without author’s consent.

Used with permission.

 I saw her light before I saw her.  

 She was majesty, with dark predator eyes that watched everything hungrily.  She moved with grace and poise as she carried her shopping basket, somehow raising the mundane act of getting groceries at a supermarket to an act of nobility.

 From my advantage point behind the deli counter, I couldn’t help but watch.  She had perfect, warm caramel skin.  Her hair was a controlled explosion of gentle, giggling curls that framed her face with early autumn brown, red, and gold.

 She moved with strength and decision, like a chess master, every play calculated three steps ahead.

 I realized she was aware I was watching and pretended to be doing something behind the counter and look busy.   I set my stare elsewhere, but I continued to watch from the corner of my eye because I couldn’t look away.

 There was something wrong.

 It was in her eyes, the slight narrowing of her brows, the consternation in her eyes, that shouted she needed my assistance.

 The most correct answer would have been to call someone from that department to help her, but I heard her like a siren’s song and crawled out from behind the counter, out from my fortress, to somehow be of service.  I am a slightly built, pale, white presenting guy, and I felt every bit the thrall as I approached this Nubian queen; and although I was silent on my approach, she was well aware of my presence.

 “These have been mis-shelved.”  She wasn’t demeaning or condescending, simply informative, yet her voice was a soft hand of force.  “Please check the price on this.”  She held up a jar of expensive spice.  As she did, she did not look at me.

 She had a soothing, hypnotic tenor voice that curled around my subconscious like a python.  I tried not to act like a fumbling fool as took out my data pad and scanned the item.

 Before I could answer, she put the item in her basket.

 I looked up bewildered, and I caught a glimpse of her eyes as they flayed me open.  It was all a test, a trap, and I blundered into it.  She was Medusa, and now she had turned me to stone.  She didn’t need a price check, she had figured it out before I came over.  She wanted me out of the cave where I was hiding so she could face me on open ground where I had nowhere to run.

 She had me right where she wanted.

 Her eyes flicked to my data-pad.  “I placed an order.”  She said.  “Beatrice.”

 I found my voice.  “Oh!  It’s ready to go.  Its scheduled to be delivered…”

 She slipped her basket from her arm and handed it to me.  “Add this to it.”  Her eyes locked on mine, and held me in her grip, that hand of force.  “I’ll see you at six.”

 She turned and walked away, and I watched her delicious hips sway as she walked like a victorious gladiator.

 My job wasn’t to ring up groceries, or make deliveries, but I did both.  She didn’t tell me to do it.  She didn’t make any insistence how it was to be done.  

 Just to do it.

 So I did.  

 Controlled by her invisible hand of force.

 I got off shift at three and waited around for two hours before I picked up the catering order and her additional items and drove to the listed address: a two story, stand alone building just off the main drag.  Over the years the place used to be a dance studio, then community rec center, then office space, changing identity almost every year.  It’s biggest selling point was adequate parking out back.

 It was now all black, with blackend glass windows, and a black sign splayed across the front proclaiming in even blacker letters that could only be seen in raking light: Queen of Spades.

 I parked out back.  I carried the huge tray and groceries like a circus balancing act and knocked on the back door with my foot.

 A beautiful woman dressed in all shining rubber opened the door.  Her blonde hair curled over her head like a crashing ocean wave as her polar blue eyes speared me like a pig.  Her full lips frowned a smile as she motioned with a nod to grant me access.

 I flattened against the wall to slide past her mammoth, breath stealing tits.  

 I made my way in and someone pointed to a table by the wall.  

 I set the table.

 Again, not my job, but I had all the materials and it was an expensive order and it was good customer service to display our work properly.

 Bullshit.

 As I spread out the paper table cloth and arranged the napkins and plastic forks, I had only one thought: to please Beatrice.  I had met her for ten-seconds and all I wanted was her approval.

 When I finished my set up with a satisfied grin, I clasped my hands together and looked up, almost hoping to show off how nice a paper plate arrangement could be, and discovered I was adrift on a raft in a sea of leather.

 I was certainly underdressed.

 Women had arrived through the main entrance, and were chatting, greeting each other with hugs, and pantomiming kisses.  They wore spandex, darlex, latex, PVC and leather in every shade of the rainbow including infrared and ultraviolet.  They walked on dangerously high heels, and brandished whips and polished handcuffs from utility belts.

 In the center of the maelstrom, like a lighthouse in a storm, was Beatrice.  Where black was the prominent color, she wore a long victorian dress of white leather, its train softly sweeping the floor.  Clasped about her waist was a severe corset of deep blood that shaped her perfect body perfectly.  Her white gloves flashed as she shook hands and greeted all the women.

 The only skin she showed was her face.

 My heart stilled.

 So beautiful.

 A woman walked up to the table and I forced to focus on my self-appointed task.  I walked through the menu of the available finger food and helped her build a plate, including the proper sauces and condiments.  As more women made their way over, I assisted then as well, making sure they had whatever utensils and napkins they needed.  I removed empty trays and plates and kept everything neat.

 The women headed over to the seating area by the stage, and with their food on their laps, dined.

 A woman went up on stage and made announcements and talked about up coming events.  Another woman then went over the night’s itinerary.

 I discreetly walked through and gathered up trash.  Someone asked for a cupcake and I fetched it.

 Finally a woman went on stage and said:  “And now someone who needs no introduction, a mistress, a ghoddess…”  she stressed the word, ghoddess.  “Miss Beatrice!”

 Hearing her name, I quickly scrambled back behind the table to get out of the way as the room filled with applause and shouts.  

 The lights dimmed and a spot light followed ghoddess Beatrice to the stage.

 “Pain is a response to stimuli,”  She began.  “as is pleasure.  Only the mind tells them apart.  Pain is a warning, and pleasure,”  Her smile made the audience shiver.  “is a treat.  But is there a difference?”  She tapped her temple.  “Only up here.  Tonight’s period of instruction is the erotic art of spanking.  For some of you, this will be new, for most of you…”  She eyed them playfully.  “a refresher.  However, for one, very special subject, this will be a life changing moment, and lucky you get to watch it unfold.”

 She pointed her finger like a dagger thrust.  “You!”

 The spot light swung over and blinded me.  As I held up my hands to block the unexpected brilliance, I realized that ghoddess Beatrice was talking to… me?

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World Dominatrix

By DX

Copyright, 7/2025 all rights reserved.

 We ‘met’ on an on-line dating website.  She was Hollywood beautiful, with long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, and a lean, supermodel’s body, and when she pinged me on the app, I immediately knew it was fake.

 As an astro-physicist, I spent my life pouring over blurry images of the distant cosmos searching for trace signs of life, and not enough time on a social life on this planet.  My main exercise came from pedaling my bike up the long sloping hill to the observatory to gaze unblinkingly at the stars to ponder the universe with the sole hope that there was someone, lightyears away, gazing back.

 I was alone.

 And alone sucked.

 A colleague suggested the dating app and helped me set up what I would like in a friend—and on a dark, cloudy night, while waiting for spectrograph images, I opened the app and there she was: Amanda Winters, PHD.

 She literally took my breath away.  Her intense, fjord blue gaze was mesmerizing, as if she was calculating the depth of a black hole.  She had soft, kissable lips, and a tiny, slightly turned up nose.  Her magnificent breasts could not be hidden by a lab coat.

 All fake, it had to be.

 My first instinct was to hit ignore.  It was a scam.  I was not the kind of guy who got the pretty girl, but my hubris beckoned, that maybe, just maybe, she was pretty AND smart AND interested in me. 

 I decided to prove she was fake.

 It was what a scientist did.  Question everything.  Gather evidence and prove a theory.

 So I sat on the bench outside the observatory and searched on-line.  Instantly articles she had written on topics of theoretical physics appeared.  There were videos of her academic lectures, lists of her awards, references to books she had written on quantum theory.

 She was a fucking genius!  

 I noticed she had recently been on staff with an old friend who I hadn’t seen since post-grad, so I gave him a call.  As we caught up on current events, I slipped her name into conversation and he instantly regaled talks with her about ion fusion drives for spacecraft.  He then mentioned a partial attempt at getting to know her better, but she was only interested in his mind.

 While we talked, I realized Amanda was an intellectual butterfly, touching briefly on every science she could find.  She must have read my latest article on non-faster than light craft and space exploration and wanted to discuss the idea further with me.  She wasn’t looking for a ‘date’.

 But it was a dating app, right?

 I pinged her back.

 What harm could there be?  I was just an astro-physicist, and a boring one at that.  What could possibly go wrong?

 World conquering Supervillain was not on my list, but seriously, who would have thought that?  Scam artist?  Yes.  End of the World?  No.

 We chatted on the app.  Then chatted more off the app.  We fired theories back and forth, sent each other articles and equations we were working on.

 We hit it off.

 We finally met face to face at a lecture at University.  

 I was tongue tied.  Her beautiful radiance was stunning.  I did managed to joke, “You’re so bright, you have exceeded the SPF rating of my sunblock!”

 Her laughter was like crystal chimes.

 Amanda thought my joke was funny.  MY JOKE.  That should have been a clue she was evil.

 But it wasn’t.

 After the lecture we did lunch, and we talked about warping space, and science fiction, and movies, and non-sciency things.

 Like normal people.

 After that we saw each other regularly, and lunches turned to dinners, and conferences turned to get togethers, and one night, as we left a symposium of pre-dinosaur life, she suggested I stop by her place for a night cap.

 I was lost in her lidded eyes and coy glance, and I stared at her stupidly.

 “This is a subtle word suggestion,”  Amanda explained.  “to signal you my wish to participate with you in a non-work, intimate coital,”  She blushed.  “that may include physical contact, like touching, kissing, and possibly other interactions of mutual affection.”  She smiled awkwardly.  “If you’re interested in such things.”

 “Yeah.”  I mumbled.

 I followed in my car.  It was a twenty minute drive to a part of town I never went.  Science isn’t a wealth driving endeavor, and yet she lived in the part of town where all of the houses were hidden behind tall privacy hedges and ivy, and police officers wore white gloves and saluted when you drove by.

 Her mansion was the posh one.

 As her car approached, the tall wrought iron gates silently swung open, and we drove past the rooks and down the winding driveway, and through the opulent garden filled with nouveau art sculptures.

 We parked out front of the palatial doors.  “I made shrewd and calculated stock market investments.”  She said bashfully, explaining her amazing and obvious wealth as she stepped out of her car.  “It wasn’t hard, really.  I just used a little science.”  She then smiled shyly.  “I, uh… took the liberty to give the staff the night off.”  She shrugged.  “So we’ll have to fend for ourselves.”

 “I’m sure we can manage.”  I mustered as I followed her in to her beautiful, and perfect trap.

 Roman columns of marble towered around me, as haunting paintings by Dutch Masters loomed on the walls, their eyes magically following as we passed.  We entered the living-room, if you could call it that, a grand and spacial arena filled with pomp and circumstance.  It was a great palace, complete with a baby grand piano and a trickling water fountain of a little cherub endlessly taking a piss.

 My head was on a swivel, my face slack, as I took it all in.

 Most notably were the modern sculptures artistically arranged among the classic works, all of a repeating theme: Aged bronze, about two meters tall, maybe seventy centimeters wide, and forty centimeters deep.  They were rectangle, and maintained sharp ninety degree corners and edges, but they were twisted and spiraled, swooping and sloping into odd, sweeping shapes.  There were dozens of them all spread about the room, some in recesses, some as a main display with bright, focused spotlights trained on them.

 “I see you’re admiring my art.”  She said, handing me a glass of wine.

 “Elegant and understated.”  I said, sipping at my wine.  “The casting alone must have been challenging.”

 She nodded.  “Your mind is so quick.”  She chided.  “You’re already thinking of engineering, instead of the art form.”  She read my abashed expression, but dismissed it with a smile.  “You’re a scientist.  I would expect nothing less.”  She approached one of the statues and touched it.  “The rectangle is a defined, basic space.  It represents man.  I break the rules and make it pliable, flexible, contoured.”  Her eyes roved over the piece.  “In my hands, man is transformed, malleable.”

 As I sipped at my wine, I watched her breath deepen as her cheeks flushed.  Touching the sculpture was an erotic experience for her.

 She looked at me, and took my hand and pressed it to the sculpture.  “Hard, yet soft, unyielding, yet passive.”  Amanda explained, her breath a hot whisper.

 She kissed me.  Warm and wonderful.  She turned me around and pushed me against the sculpture, and there we were lip locked, tongues dueling, breath quickening, hissing as out passions grew.  She took the glass from my hand and flung it somewhere, the sound of it breaking was distant.

 Amanda’s fingers worked furiously to unbutton my shirt.  She then dragged me over to a couch and threw me down.  She climbed over me as she attacked my pants, and any attempt I made to talk she silenced with her lips.

 With our mouths merged as one, she freed my member, and it happily and quickly sprouted up.  She hiked up her dress, and dragged her glistening mons over me and stroked my cock to full with her labia minora.  When I was rock hard, Amanda enveloped me in her warm, wet lust.

 She moaned as her fingers became talons.  She gripped and pulled me into her as her hips shifted and bucked and rode me like a stallion.

 Amanda rose up, her hips astride me, and rocked easily back and forth, then as her passion flew madly, she put her fist to her mouth to stifle her building scream, while her other hand reached over and touched a sculpture mounted on the wall.

 As her fingers caressed the surface, I felt her heart flutter as her body broke and shifted and spasmed into a hard orgasm.

 She stilled, trying to catch her breath.  I was seconds behind, but she only patted my chest and peeled off me.  She sat on the couch edge and eyed my turgid, spasming cock.  “Oh, you were so close.”  She whispered.  

 I was primed, if Amanda touched me, I would have spewed like a fountain.  

 She only regarded me sadly.  “How unfortunate for you.”  She said.  “That was your last chance.  How sad is that?  Your last time ended in denial.”  Her cold eyes took me in.  “Yes, that is your world now; denial.  You’ll never orgasm again.”

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Hacked

By DX

Copyrighted 10/07, 6/2025, all rights reserved. Story may not be re-printed electronically or otherwise without written permission from the author.

Hacked!

 Hope gazed at her reflection, watching the beautician's brush flash in her short, curly platinum blonde hair. The practiced hands worked the hair spray, then satisfied with the hair, switched to applying foundation with quick flicks of a puff.

 "Is this your first time modeling for us?" The beautician asked.

 "No." Hope said quietly. "This is my third time."

 "You're a little nervous."

 Hope tried to quiet the butterflies dancing in her stomach. "Yeah, I guess."

 "You have nothing to worry about, hon." She said, picking up an eyeliner. "Look up for me please, you have a sweet, natural beauty." The beautician began to apply dark lines. "You have big, expressive tropical sea blue eyes," She switched to a brush and with flicking strokes picked up some light pink. "and crab apple dumpling cheeks." She dusted Hope's face, adding blush. "You just need some highlights so the camera doesn't wash out your sweet, kissable lips." She added a lipstick. "Mmmm," She said with a smile. "And you're done! You'll be fine. These infomercials are informal and friendly. Everyone in the audience is curious about getting a Chasti-Permalock. Just answer their questions honestly." She gave Hope a hand stepping out of the chair, whipping off the smock with a flourish. "Have a seat in the green room until they call you."

 Hope smiled her thanks and, clutching the collar of her robe, stepped into the green room which surprisingly, was a calming, mustard yellow in color. There were three girls there, lounging around on puffy overstuffed chairs flipping through magazines. They looked up as she entered, each giving a welcoming smile and nod. Hope nodded back, and found a place in the corner to sit. She signed, trying to calm her nerves and waited for her name to be called.

 She looked up as the producer leaned in. "Angie? You're up in one minute."

 Angie nodded and set down her magazine. She smoothed out her dress with a flick of her hand, raked her fingers through her hair, squared her shoulders and stepped out of the room, following the director.

 Moments later, a tall, handsome women stepped in, a little flushed and excited. "Wow!" She exclaimed as everyone looked up expectantly. "That was great! The audience is pumped." She fetched a bottle of water from the table and found herself a seat. "You guys'll have a blast." She took a sip and noticed Hope sitting in the corner. "Hey! Hope! I didn't know you were in today's show."

 Hope blushed and nodded. "Hi, Meg."

 Meg slipped over to a closer chair, resting a hand on Hope's knee. "You're not nervous are you? You've modeled for Chasti-Permalock before."

 Hope nodded. "Just pictures. There were only three people in the room."

 Meg smiled assuringly. "It's the same thing. You're a pretty girl with a nice body. You'll be fine." She gave her knee a pat. "Must be more fun than working upstairs in accounting."

 "Yeah," Hope said softly. "and the extra money is great." She shrugged. "One of the benefits of working for the Chasti-Permalock company."

 Meg shifted her chair, sitting directly in front of Hope. "There's nothing to fear from the audience. We need to get you a little confidence." Meg sat up, her ankles crossed. "You be the host and interview me."

 Hope smiled nervously. "Um, okay. So, Meg, what Permalock product do you wear?"

 Meg flashed a brilliant smile. "I have the Vaginal Plug, Vaginal Shield and Nipple Shield, all permanently installed."

 Hope's face flashed with mild surprise. "Oh, uh, I would not take you for a woman into chastity. Um, why did you do it?"

 "I started experimenting with sexual denial a few years back." Meg explained casually. "I originally got the shields set on temporary mode. I discovered the times that I was locked up, my other zones became more sensitive, erogenous." Meg lifted her long curly hair. "A touch on the nape of my neck, or the inside of my thighs drove me wild with sensation. A feather on the balls of my feet and I was putty."

 "But what about, you know, uh, orgasm?" Hope asked timidly.

 "I would have prolong periods in chastity until I could not stand it anymore." Meg shuddered as she thought about it. "Sex then was explosive! I'd almost lose consciousness. I found that I was staying locked up longer and longer, prolonging the exquisite orgasm that followed. But I began to enjoy the lock up as much as I enjoyed the sex. While locked up, if my husband rubbed my shoulders, it was like a near orgasm. I could taste the electricity when I kissed him." She licked her lips. "If you know what I mean." She smiled scandalously and Hope blushed. Meg held out her hand and gently stroked the inside of her wrist. "Sensation was different, magical. Sweet." She smiled gently. "So I activated the permanent feature and never looked back. I'm constantly tormented and titillated." She sighed dreamily. "It's sweet."

 Hope's big blue eyes blinked in amazement. "Wow." She whispered, then went on with her interview. "How does your husband feel about it?"

 Meg smiled. "Oh, I keep him very happy." Her tongue flashed across her teeth. "My lust for him has multiplied a hundred fold. I enjoy the thrill of giving him pleasure."

 Hope nodded, feeling a little out of breath. "Would you recommend it to anyone?"

 Meg shook her head. "I think everyone should try it on the temporary setting until they are sure what to expect. Heck, you can leave it in place in temporary mode indefinitely."

 "So why attach it permanently?"

 Meg thought for half a breath before answering. "Just knowing that it will not, can not come off makes a big difference to me. My body became even more sensitive. It was wonderful."

 Hope took a moment to think of another question. "Has it affected your job?"

 Meg nodded. "I use my sexual energy and put it..." Meg looked up as the stage manager stepped in.

 "Hope?" She called. "You're on in thirty-seconds."

 Hope rose up with a start. "Thirty-seconds!"

 Meg rose with her, giving her a light hug. "Plenty of time, hon." She kissed Hope's cheek. "Take a big breath and walk out there. You'll be great."

 Hope nodded and smiled, slipping from the comfort of Meg's embrace. Hope followed the stage manager into the dark back stage of the studio. Hope could hear the applause and cheers of the audience. Hope took a calming breath and waited for a signal from the stage manager.

 On stage, Hope could hear Angelica and Shamika talking about Chasti-Permalock products and nanite-technology, the microscopic machines that could permanently bind metal to flesh. Hope knew them well.

 "And now," Shamika went on. "I want to bring out our next guest, from our accounting department, Hope!"

 Hope squinted as the bright lights shined in her eyes. The audience was in darkness and the whiteness of the stage became dazzling. She forced herself to keep her chin up and walked to the center stage. Angelica motioned to a space on the couch and Hope took a seat.

 "Thank you for coming out on a short notice, Hope." Angelica began. "Our scheduled model, Tammy, stubbed her toe and broke it." The audience winced in pain and Angelica nodded in agreement. "Oh yeah, that does hurt. But the nanites in her system will heal that bone up and she'll be good as new in just a couple days. Meanwhile, we have Hope to help us model some of our more, invasive products." She turned to Hope. "Hope, you have a Chasti-Permalock. Tell us about it."

 Hope found her mouth dry with nervousness. "Well," She squeaked and cleared her throat. "I have the Clitoris Crown."

 Behind Hope, the big screen t.v. was showing a previously recorded video of Hope's vagina. Nestled in the folds of her labia, there was a tiny, delicately woven collar of gold. Hope looked back and turned three shades of red.

 Shamika rested a comforting hand on Hope's knee. "We're all friends here, Hope. It is a beautiful bit of jewelry! How does it work?"

 Hope mustered up her courage to speak. "It's connected to the nerves. It sends an almost imperceivable pulse through the vaginal nerves timed with my body's bio-rhythm."

 Shamika teased, turning to the audience. "Sounds like an accountant, doesn't she?" She turned back to Hope. "Gives you a little tickle in the right place, am I right?"

 Hope nodded. "It enhances my body's natural rhythm and, uh, makes me happy."

 Angelica added in. "Starts your motor and keeps the engine revving all day."

 “I, uh… well, keeps me primed.  By the day's end, I'm ready to spend a little time with my husband, Mark." Hope smiled sheepishly as the audience whooped.

 "And what if Mark isn't home?" Shamika asked.

 Hope blushed again. "I can go about three or four days and then something has to happen. I could do it myself, it's just not as fun."

 Shamika nodded. "Of course not. Now Mark has something as well, correct?"

 Hope smiled, her dimples showing. "We have matching crowns. The nanites in our systems are matched so that we're always in sync. When we get together, it’s incredible."

 "Keeping the home fires burning!" Shamika exclaimed. "Now your devices are not Chastities, but marital enhancers."

 Hope nodded, her dimples deepening. "We both love it.  We like having sex… with each other, and it can be explosive at times.”  She smiled sheepishly.  “When we’re together, it’s like our whole body becomes an erogenous zone.  Sometimes, we can just lay together and hug.  Our bodies become electric.”

 “Sounds wonderful!” Angelica chimed happily, turning to the audience. “Folks, as you can see, Chasti-Permalock has a bevy of devices from sexual denial to enhancement. For the last part of our show, Hope will model some of our heavy duty bondage devices used not only as marital aids, but also correctional restraints. Please remember that the devices demonstrated today are inert and cannot be permanently activated. When you order your device, please state if you wish for a permanent option installed. If you purchase without the permanent option, you cannot have it post installed, you'll have to order a new device." Angelica turned to Shamika. "So what's first on the menu?"

 Shamika was helping Hope out of her robe. "We're going to go all out starting with vaginal and anal plugs." With her robe gone, Hope was completely naked and the audience applauded. Hope's entire body blushed. "You're doing fine, Hope." Shamika comforted her. "Now hop up on the table for me."

 Hope kept her eyes down, not wanting to look at the audience, pretending they were not there. She sat on the medical table and leaned back, making herself comfortable. Shamika lifted her feet up into stirrups, exposing her for everyone. The camera closed in.

 "That's a lovely shot of Hope's crown." Angelica commented to Hope's chagrin.

 Shamika held up the plug, glistening with lubricating gel. "The plugs come custom built, designed to take up all available space."

 As Shamika maneuvered the plug into Hope's tight opening, Angelica faced the audience. "What sets Chasti-Permalock apart is nanite technology. We can design, and engineer devices on a molecular scale. What appears to be a smooth vaginal plug, in actuality has a well over a billion pores across its surface. From each pore, an anchor will extend into the vaginal wall. The anchors can hinge and release so the plug can stay as long as you want and release with no harm. Other nanites in the surface of the plug can handle bacteria, so there's no fear of odors or sores from prolonged use."

 As Angelica talked, Hope could feel the plugs, one at a time maneuver into her. She tried to relax, but she could feel the eyes of the audience on her like the hot stage lights beaming above her. Shamika caressed her cheek and leaned close to her ear. "Just think of Mark, hun." She whispered. "Now take a deep breath, and let it all out."

 Hope felt Shamika give a little shove. The plug was enormous, getting bigger and bigger and just as Hope thought something was about to tear, she felt herself close over the tapered end, her vagina pulling the device in. It was almost natural.

 Shamika looked up with a smile. "The plugs are in. How does it feel, Hope?"

 Hope grunted, a little winded. "Full!"

 The audience laughed and Shamika gave Hope's belly a light pat, feeling the firmness. "If you were to keep this in, you would get used to it quickly. The anchors have already distended and attached the plugs to the vaginal wall. Without the release code in this remote," Shamika held up a small black device, the size of a key fob with three tiny buttons on it. "the plugs cannot be removed making en-vitro sex impossible. "

 "Can I hang on to that?" Hope asked and the audience responded with laugher.

 Shamika wedged the remote into her copious cleavage. "I'll keep it safe, hun." Shamika then took up a slightly curved bowled silver plate. "And now for the plate. This will cover the entire vagina. Once set in place, the anchors will attach." Shamika pressed firmly and then moved her hand away, the plate remaining in place. Shamika then tried to pry it off gently, but it appeared to have been glued on. "It won't come off without the electronic key or pulling off all of Hope's skin. You'll notice this set has a three millimeter hole for wastes. The nanites will breakdown and re-use most waste. If this were a permanent install, the nanites would switch to a more evasive procedure, surgically altering Hope's body to make it more efficient. She would have no waste. The nanites would then use iron molecules from Hope's blood to build carbon-steel and plug up the waste hole as if it were never there."

 Shamika then picked up gleaming bowls. "Now for the full breast cups. No need to wear a bra ever with these babies."

 Angelica faced the audience. "Now if these devices had the permanent lock down feature, and we activated them, from vents in the anchors, specialized nanites would release and within hours, a million carbon cables would form, spreading throughout Hope's body. These carbon cables are only a few molecules thick. A bundle of a thousand of them are still thinner than a human hair and yet are ten times stronger than titanium. Like a web, they will attach the devices to Hope's body so removing them would be impossible, even surgically. Forty-eight hours after the lock down feature has been activated, the unlock codes from the nanite brains would be deleted. The nanites cannot be over ridden or hacked. Even if destroyed, builder nanites would only make new nanites, put together from molecules in Hope's body. It is a perfect, and permanent, flawless system."

 Shamika gave Hope a hand, helping her sit up. The audience oooh'd at the shiny metal breast cups. "How's that, Hope?"

 Hope seemed surprised at her own reaction. "It's like my breasts and vagina wasn't there. It's not numb, but, I can't feel them." Hope cupped her metal clad breasts. "It's kind of, exciting."

 Shamika nodded. "That's the paradox of enticement through denial. It’s a bit of a turn on, isn't it?"

 Hope nodded, blushing again. “But, I can still feel my crown!  Knowing I can't touch it is really incredible! I want to touch it more than ever!"

 Angelica smiled. "I bet your husband Mark will have a bit of fun when he gets home."

 Hope shook her head. "Oh, he better be here when we're done shooting. When these things come off, so will I!"

 The audience howled and hooted, but Hope no longer seemed to care. Her crown with its gentle vibrations became magnified in the void created by the Permalocks. She could sense that Mark's crown would reflect the same, since the two where matched. Somewhere, miles away, Mark would feel it. Hope only hoped that he would leave work, making up some excuse, come to the studio and, audience or not, fuck her brains out.

 "Another option for the implants," Angelica explained. "is an orgasm feature. Using the remote control, the wearer could experience orgasm at the push of a button."

 Hope looked up desperately. "Can we demonstrate that feature now?"

 The audience cheered, but Angelica shook her head. "I'm sorry, but this unit does not have that feature. I promise at our next demonstration, it will."

 "Can I volunteer for that assignment now?" Hope asked quickly.

 "You got it. But we have to finish this show first." Angelica held up a thick, metal collar. "And the faster we get these on, the sooner we're done and we can get Hope off, I mean, get them off Hope." The audience hooted as she handed the device to Shamika. "Next is the discipline collar."

 Hope already had her chin up and Shamika wasted no time slipping the collar around her delicate throat. "Collars are signs of submissiveness." Shamika said. "This posture collar with its contoured design forces Hope to keep her head in perfect poise. It also encourages natural stretching of her neck for a more, graceful, swan like appearance. Nanites can even build up the steel, exaggerating the length of the neck like an African Bride. The collars can be designed with a bevy of functions such as lie detection. Or a silence mode where the wearer is punished or asphyxiated if she tries to talk. This leaves her mouth for other functions."

 Angelica nodded picking up a black latex jacket. "And now for some of our correctional items. This straight jacket has the look, feel and smell of latex, but it is breathable, and nearly indestructible, Latex-x." Angelica took a knife from her pocket and jammed it into the sleeve. She tried to pierce the latex-x, stretching it harshly, but left not a mark on it. "Even if it could be penetrated, and the wearer was still alive, the nanites would repair the material, and the wearer.” She handed the jacket off to Shamika. "On permanent mode, the jacket and wearer would become one, for life."

 Shamika held up the jacket for Hope who wasted no time sliding her arms into the sleeves. "When I apply these to a non-cooperative subject, I have two other assistants."

 Hope was amazed at how soft the latex-x felt on her skin. She felt the tightness clench her completely. As Shamika pulled the laces up in back, Hope felt the jacket clenching her waist, embracing her.

 Shamika expertly reached under Hope's crotch and grabbed the broad strap and pulled that back, covering up Hope's butt.

 Angelica laid a hand on Hope's hip. "This jacket has a corset feature. On permanent mode, it can tighten up reducing Hope's waist to a breath taking 50%. Just because you're a criminal, doesn't mean you can't look sexy." She looked at Hope. "That would make you, what, Hope?"

 “Uh, 50%?” Hope gasped. "Twelve inches or so, but I can hardly breathe now!"

 "Right now, we've already pulled four inches from your waist. On permanent mode, it would take three months of gradual reduction to give you a twelve inch waist with an extreme three inch pipe stem."

 Hope ran her sleeved hands, the straps flopping off her fingers, across her smooth, black shinny belly. She felt sexy, exotic and incredibly horny.

 Shamika brought her arms behind her back. "Most straight jackets are self hugging, but I think it's sexier and more restrictive to be behind the back." Shamika maneuvered Hope's arms behind her back, bringing the straps across the front. She kept snugging, bit by bit, until Hope's fingertips were almost touching her abdomen. Shamika then applied more straps across Hope's back, trapping her arms.

 Hope could feel the tightness with every breath. Feeling helpless, she wanted more than ever for sexual release, the energy becoming maddening. Angelica laid out shoes, black with very killer heels and with help, Hope slipped them on. She watched forlornly as Shamika slipped a hobble skirt around her waist and zipped it closed, bringing Hope's legs together, sealing them in latex-x, she would only be able to take a six inch step.

 The audience applauded at the sexy figure writhing on stage. Hope caught an image of herself on the monitor and in her mind she imagined Shamika taking out a remote control and with a push of a button, give Hope orgasm after orgasm. Hope struggled to stay focused and professional. There were only a few items left, and then they would take everything off, and then Mark would be there, or someone would be there, and make Hope a very happy woman.

 "This is turning you on, isn't Hope?" Angelica asked.

 "Yes!" She roared more than she wanted. “Incredibly!  Can we take a break?"

 The audience laughed and Angelica smiled. "I know I am cruel, but we're almost done and for being such a good sport, I promise we'll take very good care of you. The way you're wriggling, you must be stewing. If we leave you alone long enough, won't your crown just finish you off?"

 Hope shook her head frantically. "No, there is an inhibitor. It will sense if I'm getting too excited and back off. There has to be some other stimulation."

 "I understand." Angelica said. "Well, Shamika is ready with our last installs." She turned towards the audience. "For the ultimate in sensory depravation we have just what you need. As each sense is taken away, the rest become stronger. If we take all of them away, the mind sharpens and intensifies all perceived sensation. I'm sorry, Hope, but in a moment, your crown is just gonna be ringing your bell."

 Shamika wheeled the table over. She and Angelica took Hope by the arms and heaved her up onto the table. Shamika took up a nasal plug with long tubes. "This is going to feel weird, but just relax." Shamika guided the tubes up and into Hope's sinus, the plug ending discretely at Hope's nose.

 "The plug will not only insure uninterrupted breathing," Angelica explained, "but will also prevent hay-fever, dust, mold and other inhaled allergies."

 Shamika carefully placed the eye shields on, holding each one in place for a second and then letting them go, stuck fast to Hope's face.

 "It's a shame to block up those beautiful eyes, Hope." Angelica said. "How is it?"

 "Dark!" She exclaimed to a flurry of laughter from the audience. "Uh, can I say something?"

 "Better hurry, the gag is next."

 "I can see how this whole bondage thing is really neat and kinky and I would not mind being packaged up for a few hours. In fact, I think I'm gonna get a set up like this at home, but I don't think I could stand it being on permanently. I know some people enjoy the never ending craving, but I'm seconds away from chewing my way out."

 "Not after this." Shamika said. "Open wide now. Wider. Much wider."

 "Ih oyen o ayny wiyer."

 Shamika began packing the huge gag into Hope's mouth, stretching her jaw more and more.

 "This is our basic gag. More advanced gags have silence and punishment features. Some have a removable core that can be replaced with a cloned oral or vaginal cavity. Some clients like the packed mouth look, but for today, Shamika is applying the mouth shield to give a nice, clean look." Angelica then addressed Hope. "Alright hun, we're putting in the ear plugs. You won't be able to hear for a few minutes. We'll get that stuff off you and make sure all your needs are met, alright?"

 Hope could barely nod in the high collar.

 Angelica smiled as Shamika wriggled the first plug in. "I promise, Hope, we’ll take good care of you.” Angelica then addressed the audience. "The ear plugs can be programed to block out all sound, or distort speech so that it is unintelligible. It can even be set so that only select voices can be understood, like a master, and all other sound is garbled. These particular plugs that Hope is going to model for us are set so that all sound is distorted. She can hear, but nothing makes sense. Now folks, doesn't Hope look sexy bound up like that? You can see why we use real models for our products because you'd never believe how incredible she looked if I just told you." The audience applauded. "That is our show, ladies and gentlemen, we're going to get this stuff off Hope. We're going to bring back our other guests and you can ask questions and get a close up look at all of our products." Angelica pointed into the audience. "Yes, you have a question?"

 A woman had raised her hand. "How does she eat? I mean, if she's on permanent mode."

 As Angelica answered questions, Shamika retrieved the remote from her cleavage and was hitting the unlock button. 

 She frowned. 

 She looked up, struggling to put on a smile. "I'm going to take Hope back stage and uh, get her ready for questions."

 Angelica shot a curious look at Shamika, but stage hands, at Shamika’s discrete signal, were already wheeling Hope off stage. Angelica faced the audience, almost trying to distract them from Shamika's hasty retreat. "That's a great question." She answered. “The main source will be from nasal cannula, however; Nanites can draw energy from many sources. They can leech from the skin and absorb nutrients from dust and pollen in the air, even from the sun."

 Angelica's voice faded away as Shamika left the stage. Plunged into the darkness, Shamika dropped all pretense and hissed and the stage hand. "Katie, get my lap top. Hurry!"

 "What is it?" Katie asked carrying it over from the table.

 Shamika snatched it and set in the table next to the writhing form of Hope. Shamika's grim face lit up as she opened the screen. "Hope's permalocks have activated. She's in permanent lock down. The moment I put in the last ear plug, everything tightened. It should not have done that."

 "Oh, God!" Katie's hands covered her mouth in fear. "Permanent lock down?"


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Copyrighted 10/07, 6/2025, all rights reserved. Story may not be re-printed electronically or otherwise without written permission from the author.

Nouveau Art

By DX

Copyrighted 10/2000, 4/2025 all rights reserved.

 Pain stabbed Alex between the eyes as he awoke. Light, white and harsh beamed down on him and he squinted, and tried to see as consciousness flooded his senses. His limbs felt like lead, and as he struggled to move, he realized that he had been strapped down to a gurney of some kind. His jaw ached, and as he tried to speak or call for help, he realized that he'd been gagged.

 Alex lifted his head, ignoring the dull ache in his frontal lobe.  As he did, he could feel the fine hairs on his limbs tingle in the damp air. He looked down and confirmed that he was indeed naked. With his eyes adjusting, he looked around. A large basement, unfinished walls… a dungeon? Iron rings were embedded into the stone, cages hung from the ceiling, benches bristled with spikes, a brazier glowed with burning coals and hot branding irons lay in the heat.

 Motion in the corner of Alex’s eye drew his attention, and he saw Matt, his best friend, hanging by his wrists from chains running from the ceiling. His feet were shackled to rings in the floor and were pulled wide apart. He was gagged, with a fat, red ball strapped tightly into his mouth. His head bobbed as he began to wake. He too was naked, and Alex couldn't help but admire Matt's lean, hard body, the light accenting his rippling abs, his shredded lats, his buns of titanium.  Alex had a body made by Budweiser, and every time he saw Matt, he silently raged in jealousy.

 Alex heard someone grunting, and he looked over and saw Carl was bent over and locked in stocks. Carl was fully awake.  His eyes were filled with terror, and his mouth filled with a gag.

 "Ah, so you gentlemen are finally awake.”  A deep timber voice sounded in the echoey room.

 Alex looked up sharply as a well dressed man walked down the steps to the dungeon, his delicate lips in a bemused smile.

 "I apologize for my methods.”  He said insouciantly, as if kidnapping was a daily occurrence.  “I realize how rude it is of me to drug your morning coffees and secret you to my lair just to meet with you, but I felt it was a matter of urgency." He looked around at the faces of the men, reading their confusion. "Let me introduce myself." He stood at attention and clicked his heels as he bowed slightly. "I am Oscar Wolf. I am a dealer in rare artwork and artifacts.  I specialize in the nouveau.” He looked a little surprised as he scanned the faces of the men. "Still drawing a blank? I assumed since you knew my driver Max so well you would at least know of me. You all know Max don't you? You met him last week and beat him to within an inch of his life, remember? Something about him being gay." His face dropped into full surprise. "Surely you remember that? How many queers do you attack and leave for dead?"

 Alex searched his memory.  Quite a few actually. 

 It was nothing for he and his friends to cruise the streets and beat down a couple queers.

 Oscar seemed a little miffed. “Well, how about this?" He proposed. "You also wrecked my Lexus."

 Alex could see the car in his mind. Black, sleek, and reeking of wealth. He remembered they had been taking a piss in an alley when Matt had gotten into it with some queer.  Alex was pulling up his fly when he turned and saw Matt had the guy against the wall. The pansy had his hands up, trying in vain to avoid the inevitable fight. "I meant no offense." He driver pleaded. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

 "I saw you!" Matt shot back hotly. "I saw you looking at my ass!" His big fists tightened up. "I'm gonna teach you to look at my ass!"

 And the beating began. The driver had dropped to the ground, curled up into a ball and put his hands up to protect his head, but it did him little good against their steel toed boots. When they tired of kicking him, they found steel pipes in a dumpster and went to work on the car.

 "So now you remember!" Oscar announced. "I'm glad we got that out of the way. At least now you know why you're here. Max was not only a driver, but a very dear friend to me, and I don't think you should get away with what you did." He snapped his fingers sharply. "Speaking of which, you nearly did. Not like the police were going to worry their little heads over it. And even if they did find you, it's not like Max was going to identify you. You see, Max has yet to regain consciousness. And the doctors believe he will never be the same again. Reduced mental capacity." Oscar paused as he forced down the anger raging within him. "He may never wake up." He looked up, his sharp eyes flickering in the light. "Almost the perfect crime, but you see; you three couldn't help but brag. How proud you were that you ganged up on a helpless man that you didn't realize that one of your co-workers was a closet homosexual. He called me, and we made the arrangements to bring you down here so we could have a little chat about your future."

 Oscar waved his hand, showing off the room. "This is my workshop. This is where I send and receive my priceless works. You see, Max was priceless to me, just like my works of art, and now, you’ve taken him from me. So, I think it’s only fair that you should replace him." He pointed to Matt. "Max was a beautiful man. Absolute eye candy." Oscar ran a delicate finger across Matt's rippling stomach. "I could never tire of looking at him. So that is what I'm going to do to you. Make you my private eye candy."

 Suddenly the shadows peeled from the walls and formed men garbed in black.  They moved in precision towards Matt's struggling body while Oscar stood back and watched. "When transporting ancient statues, we developed a special technique to protect the statue from the sea air, and the bumps and dings of transport.  We seal the statue in several coats of Permalex. A special, synthetic latex coat which protects the statue.  It can be easily removed on destination. It’s great on stone, but it's a little dangerous when it comes in contact with human skin. The natural acids on the skin mix with the Permalex and causes it to bond… permanently.”

 Matt continued his struggles as the men grabbed him and held his head steady. They pulled the gag from his mouth, but before he could so much as swear, they shoved a tube down his throat."

 Oscar sat down in a chair, to watch the show. "That tube in your mouth will deliver the Permalex inside of you. It will coat your larynx, and freeze up your vocal cords. Can't have a noisy statue, can we? It will work through your system, and coat your insides. That will prevent any gastric problems. That massive anal plug being stuffed into your virgin asshole will bond with the Permalex in your body. It also has another function.  The plug is powered by the natural heat of your body, a tiny, tiny voltage, but more than enough to deliver an electric current to the prostate.  Through a series of electric contacts and sensors, it will keep you sexually stimulated, but programmed not to let you experience orgasm. This, I think, creates a continual emission of a raw, desperate and frustrated sexual aura that will create a subliminal appeal in the audience.  Don’t you agree?  People will be drawn to your miasma of lust and longing on a primal level and not know why.”  He smiled as if he tasted something delicious.  “What art!”

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Copyrighted 10/2000, 4/2025 all rights reserved.